The Drafts

You know how you start drafting a post and then you have to pause because life keeps happening now matter how inspired you get and then you come back to finish it and the moment is over? Either the story changed or your mood passed or you forget where you were going with the story in the first place?

Then eventually you go back into your drafts and you wish you had just been late to soccer practice that day or pushed dinner back 30 minutes so you could at least have finished the draft because now you have this half piece of something that should have been worth reading?

Yeah, me, that, all of the time.

I hate for those things to go to waste, so I am going to give them to you just like this.

* * *

Ian: When you were in the store Mommy used some questionable language.

Me: Oh, there was no question about it, that was bad language.

Gabe: What happened.

Me: Some lady tried to back out of a parking space right into us so I started honking the horn and yelling obscenities.

Ian: You attacked her.

Me: I attacked her character.

* * *

Last week I went to a funeral and I saw all of my friends.

* * *
I was driving home from Safeway, as I do, and I was stopped behind one of those minivans with a family sticker on the back. You know like this:

Except this one was different. It was just a baby. No mom, no dad, no dog, no Calvin peeing on Texas, nothing else, just the baby.

I thought, well, that’s dumb. Is the baby just in there by himself? Then I started laughing and couldn’t stop for far longer than was appropriate. This is when I knew I had finally lost it.

It has been a long few weeks. I have had a lot going on. Most of it was fun, there were a lot of parties and playmates and dinners and sporting events, but there were also stressful things like auditions and travel and our air conditioner died and crazy traffic and not enough sleep. Plus, the mundane work things like conference calls and meetings and deadlines and completely random things like I had to pick up Ian’s inhaler at school because tomorrow is their last day and we have a vet appointment on Tuesday and Claudia has a campout this weekend and I don’t think I even have safety pins and they are on the list of things she needs. And let’s not forget the every day stuff like grocery shopping and cooking and the laundry and dishes, and holy crap, I just realized that I am supposed to be hosting a barbecue and I don’t have any air conditioning. I hope it is nice out on Saturday. Did I mention I have to work the snack bar on Saturday morning for the swim team time trials?

So I have some stress, good and bad, and while I know for sure that the lead up involved the fact that you can no longer buy strawberry gel for strawberry pie because I somehow missed “season” even though June seems like season to me. Apparently no amount of grocery shopping can get me in tune with the biorhythms of strawberry shortcake season, and I needed strawberry gel for the dessert I was going to make as part of a writing assignment that I have due tomorrow. I should have suspected something was amiss when the Eric Whitacre Ted talk made me cry twice this morning during breakfast. I also know that somehow this lone baby floating on the back of the minivan in front of me made me laugh in a way that was uncomfortable.

Sure, the idea of a baby driving a minivan, smoking a cigarette and flipping off pedestrians is funny (yeah, that is where my mind went. I really have no excuse.) it shouldn’t make you laugh like the guy in “Dark Side of the Moon”. Maybe it is the lack of cool air, or maybe I am freaking out more than I would like to admit about the kids being home this summer. Maybe it is because yesterday the drive-by landscaper insinuated that one of my trees was going to fall onto my house. Maybe it is PMS, but that math doesn’t seem right.

* * *

When I was in 8th grade a girl that rode my bus told be that her brother died from taking expired Tylenol.

I am just now realizing that it probably wasn’t true.

* * *

I’ve done a lot of things in my lifetime that defy reasonable explanation. I opted out of the gifted program in middle school because I preferred the people in regular classes. I threatened to fight a fox. I moved to Orlando on purpose. Twice.
* * *
This was a draft post title:
Yes, Yes. She Thirstily Awaits My Updates About Butts
I am going to go ahead and assume it was a post about spam comments. Anything else is too messed up.
* * *

I have this thing that I want to talk about. I want to tell you all about it. It is about parenting and things that are hard and how strange life really is.

I want to tell you about these struggles and the expenses and the paperwork. I want you to know about the outstanding staff at our elementary school. I want to ask you questions about disorders I have never even heard of. I want to know when gifted programs changed from being for the really smart kids to being for children who “learn differently”.

I feel like it would help me to talk about it here.

I can’t. It isn’t my story to tell anymore.

I can tell you some things about my kids. I can tell you some stories. Anecdotes. I can tell you that my daughter is still wearing her winter boots from two years ago and she swears that they still fit even though they are two sizes too small.

* * *

Is it just the Goon Squad or do other people’s children choose the songs they want on their iPod based on how many bad words are in the lyrics?

Just mine?

Am I also the only one that lets their seven year olds choose what goes on their iPods?

Am I the only fool that gave seven year olds iPods?

* * *

This next one was taken from a draft post called “This is How My Brain Really Works”.

My Inner Monologue Just Now

Is that a snake on my wheelbarrow?

Oh! That sounds like a tweet. I need to go tweet that right now.

Wait, no that sounds too rural.

You know you’re a redneck if there is a snake on your wheelbarrow.

If I tell people I thought I sounded to rural they will all think I am prejudiced against rural people. My farmer friends will get angry.

Heh. Farmer friends.

Where did we even get a wheelbarrow?

This is not my beautiful house.

* * *

You can learn a lot about a person by the way they handle your good news.

When something bad happens to someone in the blogosphere people line up to help, to give money, to change their twitter avatar a color, to talk about how they have always been best friends.

When one of us gets a tv show, or wins an award, or gets a book deal the claws come out.

No, really.

Some of the shittiest things that have ever been said to me (and about me) have been at a great moment in my life. When I got engaged, when I got married, when I got pregnant, when I’ve had successful auditions or job opportunities horrible things have come out of people’s mouths. They can’t handle the good.

Right before I got married a co-worker told me that I would do a better job registering for my second wedding.

* * *

Ever since I was a little girl I wanted to be a mother. I love my children, I really do. I am proud of them, I think they are smart and kind. I enjoy their company. I like being their mom. I am pleased that they are toilet trained.

However, if they could learn to urinate IN the toilet instead of near or around it I would be much less disturbed my the odor coming from the hall bathroom and therefore a much happier and more pleasant person to be around.

The end.

 

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  1. There is so much here. I can’t even think straight. So I’ll just tell you the thing that will make you feel better about your parenting: my three year old has his own iPod. Ahem.

  2. Each of these is so rich and full of things I want to read. POST THEM ALL.

    And we’re going through this right now. It sucks. It’s humbling. But it’s made me glad I’m the parent to the kid going through this because I know I am doing everything I can.

    ” I have this thing that I want to talk about. I want to tell you all about it. It is about parenting and things that are hard and how strange life really is.

    I want to tell you about these struggles and the expenses and the paperwork. I want you to know about the outstanding staff at our elementary school. I want to ask you questions about disorders I have never even heard of. I want to know when gifted programs changed from being for the really smart kids to being for children who “learn differently”.

    I feel like it would help me to talk about it here.

    I can’t. It isn’t my story to tell anymore.”

  3. Wow, that’s a lot of posts. I’m impressed. Only have 4 in my draft folder so clearly I have some work to do.

    And right now my kids choose the music based on whatever is on the radio because Mommy lied and said that the Backyardigans CD was lost. Again.

    Seriously though, you are amazing and I want to be just like you when I grow up!

  4. Y’know what you need? Yeah, me neither. In any case, if you’re not listening to Opeth, you’re life is definitely lacking in progressive metal, which is sort of like having a vitamin deficiency if ‘vitamin deficiency’ translates to ‘not enough Swedish metal’.

  5. See? Only 94 drafts left.

  6. Aunt Bob says:

    “However, if they could learn to urinate IN the toilet instead of near or around it I would be much less disturbed my the odor coming from the hall bathroom and therefore a much happier and more pleasant person to be around.”

    Amen.

  7. I think I love you even more after reading this. I’m very scared of my drafts folder.

  8. Todd gets so mad that I throw medicine out the day it expires. I have googled trying to find evidence of Tylenol story. Why have I believed her for so long?

  9. I’m impressed you get so much down! I start a lot of blog posts in my head and lose them that way.

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